Changes
by Alive At Last
Summary: Life was changing fast for William Gordon, but seemed to be at a stand still for Danny Blake.
1. Chapter 1

**Changes  
Chapter 1  
Rating: **T  
**Pairing: **None  
**Summary:** Life was changing fast for William Gordon, but seemed to be at a stand still for Danny Blake.  
**A/N:** This story is co-written by Tensleep, who owns Danny Blake.  
**Disclaimer:** Me nor Tensleep own The Outsiders or any of it's characters. I own William Gordon and his family, and Tensleep owns Danny Blake and his family. That's it.

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**William POV**

"What… are you talking about?"

For a while I just kind of stared at Gregory and my mum, leaning on the doorframe of the kitchen. Charlie had came back from Indonesia for a visit, but he was leaving in a day or so. He was sitting in the chair, smoking a cigarette. There wasn't surprise on his face. He knew. He knew, and he didn't tell me. How couldn't he… why…

"We're moving to America."

"But… why?"

My mum casually rubbed her upper arm, wincing a little. I wondered why she looked to be in pain. Gregory looked smug.

"We decided… to make a change. Start over."

I kind of just blinked. Start over? Start what over? My fucking life that I had grown quite fond of? The big success Gregory made in his profession? Everything?

Finally it clicked in my head.

"Why the fuck are we going to pick up and just move to another country?" I asked, pushing off of the doorframe and clenching my fists at my sides. "You expect me to just agree and go along with it?"

"Oh, please," Charlie chimed from his chair. He put out the butt of his cigarette and got up from his chair, just watching me. "This coming from the guy who randomly goes off on a bloody week long bike trip just to get out of the norm?" He gave a scoff, which just boiled my blood. "All this is, is another trip."

I shifted the weight on my feet, scratching at my jeans. He was telling me this while wearing his BDUs which only reminded me of the fact he was going back soon. Real smart, Charles.

"I am _not_ moving," I said forcefully. "I am not moving."

"Suck it up."

I blinked, staring at Charlie, who took a step forward.

"Since when did you become a bloody crybaby?" his voice hissed at me. He scoffed again. Angrily, I turned around, bolting out of the door. It didn't take him but a split second to take off after me. He always did that. Always took me off of 'my high horse only to bring me crashing back to reality' when I needed it, and came to comfort me afterwards. It was just the kind of person he was. A twenty-three year old who always told you how it was, no matter if it hurt or not.

I slowed to a stop and turned around to face him. He was right there, lighting a cigarette and holding it out to me. I swiped it from his hand and took a long drag. Fucking brother of mine. But I couldn't hate him. It was impossible to hate him.

"Jesus, William. You've never been this sensitive before."

"Well… how to you expect me to react? It doesn't affect you!"

It would never affect him. Not the way it would affect me. He wouldn't be here enough anymore to notice changes, or let changes affect him.

"Since when did you become so spoiled?" I heard Charlie ask. Quietly I ground the butt of my cigarette in the grass. I wasn't looking at him. I didn't want to look at him. If I did, I probably would have screamed at him. He continued, "Once something doesn't go the way you like, you turn into a little spoiled brat."

A brat? Well, that was one way to put it. I shuffled my feet and chewed on the inside of my cheek.

"Well, fuck you too."

Before the words even finished leaving my mouth, Charlie brought his fist back and caught me across my jaw. He'd gotten stronger since he was in the Air Force, so the impact surprised me. It sent me to the ground like a ton of lead, and damn, if it didn't hurt. When I looked at him, his face held remorse. But his body language didn't. He looked like he wanted to go all out on me, but he… didn't. He just watched me. Then he stepped off, stepping over me and heading for his car. Charlie did that. It was his only way to let loose without hurting someone. It made me scared to see him after the war.

He drove off, leaving me laying on my back, arms flailed out to my sides, and my jaw hurting. Yeah. I know what I said and I deserved to get hit. It was only fair in Charlie's book. And I was used to that. I began to search for my cigarettes when Charlie started the car. My cigarettes were crushed from where I fell on my ass. Thanks, Charles.

"Hey!" I yelled at him from my spot on the ground. "At least give me a fucking cigarette!"

Charlie looked at me like I was half crazy. "Are you joking?" he asked. "Fuck no."

"Why?"

"Why? Because I just punched your fucking lights out, and you expect me to give you cigarette?" he asked. "You're crazy."

I knew it.

Then he tossed his pack of cigarettes at me, the lighter hitting me between the eyes. Well, it was better than nothing. Then Charlie sped off, ready to get as far away from here as he could. Good for him, then.

I lit a cigarette and took a long drag from it, holding it in and feeling the nicotine work in my lungs. Then I slowly let it out and groaned. I was beginning to get a headache. But that was normal after Charlie hit me. I took another hit and began to let my mind wander back to the topic at hand.

America, huh? Could be different. The more I thought on it, the more I was beginning to warm up to it. Charlie did have a point when he said it would be just like a new ride. I took another drag on my cigarette.

Gregory came onto the porch and was looking at me. I couldn't see him, but I heard his footsteps

come out of the house.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice hard and raspy.

"Smoking."

He gave a sigh. "I didn't raise a bum. Get your lazy ass off of the lawn. You're bringing down the property value."

I craned my neck to look at him. "Fuck, you didn't raise me at all."

"Don't test me, boy."

I scoffed a little, almost tempted to retort to that. But I decided against it when my jaw gave a sharp throb. Then I forced myself to a sitting position, and rubbed the back of my head, my cigarette hanging from my lips limply. Gregory had his forearms resting on the railing of the porch, his back bent over slightly at his height. I just sneered at him.

"I thought so," he hissed, straightening back up and returning inside.

Yeah, I think I could deal with America.

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**Danny POV**

"God, Danny," Chet cursed, turning my face from side to side. "You really have to stop pissing him off."

I glared at my brother, feeling my bruised cheek throb with the motion. I hadn't done a single thing to piss my pop off! It was rare when I did anything to set him off. He was just a psychotic asshole who figured I was around so he would have something to take his frustrations about the world out on.

"I didn't –"

"I'm serious, Dakota. I don't need the grief."

I really glared at my brother then for a long moment before looking down at the floor, causing Chet to sigh a little. He wasn't the one getting beat up. He just didn't get it and I wasn't about to talk myself blue in the face to try to get it across to him.

"Get some ice on that."

I nodded and Chet let go of me, walking back over to his desk and slumping into the worn leather of his chair. He leaned his elbow on one of the arms, chin resting on his fist like some contemplative business man. I knew that pose. He was waiting for me to leave. Why? I never knew and I didn't bother to guess. I just turned and left the office, like I always did.

The club house was full of life with the radio going and the TV on, even though I doubted anyone was enjoying either of them. Mostly they were playing cards or bullshitting about something or another. That was how most evenings went. It was a complete and total contrast to Chet's office.

No one paid me any mind as I went to the ice box and pulled out a handful of ice to put in the corner of my over shirt. I brought the thread-bare plaid up to my face and gingerly eased it onto the most vivid of the bruises. I sighed at the coolness. It hurt more than anything right now, but it would take the edge off in a little while. It was nothing new to me. I was an old hat at taking care of bruises, cuts, scrapes, dislocations, and the odd break. Still, I hated having an audience while I did it. But right then? I didn't want to leave the club house for a good long while.

I walked over to one of the couches, sitting down on it gingerly and leaning into the cushions. The boys, if they noticed me, were giving me space. I appreciated it. I hated being the beat up kid every week.

And why was I the beat up kid every week, you ask? Well, that that was an interesting story. See, my mom was a wonderful and lovely lady. She did the best she could for me, including the fact she left Pop when I was small and married Callum Cameron. That was why I was brothers with Chet. But after Mom died, I got stuck living with Pop, and life had been one bed of roses since then...

I sighed a little to myself. Avoiding my Pop was like avoiding a wall in your house. It was always there and there was always the chance it would fall on you without warning. And even if you weren't right by it, it could bring the entire house down on you anyways.

I guess that was why I was home so rarely? This was why I was quitting school. I was just no good at thinking, and going to school with Angela was just hell. I swear, she went out of her way to make sure I couldn't ever forget that I was the punching bag at home. Step sisters…I swear.

"Hey, Danno."

I glanced up from where I was lost in my own thoughts to where Riggs was sitting down beside me. I liked Riggs well enough. He was the kind of guy who would take a bullet for you. I couldn't ever look him in the eye because he had done just that for me once. So I looked down at my knees and hoped he wasn't in one of his 'sharing and caring'moods.

"Hi Riggs," I mumbled, the ice making my words hard to hear anyways.

Riggs reached for the ice, moving it so that he could see the bruises on my face. He winced in sympathy.

"No wonder your brother is beating himself up so badly," Riggs sighed.

I shrugged, always feeling like my voice left me when I wanted to argue with one of the boys. Chet wasn't beating himself up over anything but forgetting to change the locks when I left. I always showed up to cause him grief when he didn't need it.

"I'm serious, kid. He hates seeing you like this and knowing he can't do a thing about it."

I shrugged again and Riggs just sat beside me for a long moment. He finally ran his hands over the knees of his jeans and I knew he was making some closing statement next. That was how his talks worked.

"Are you going to stay and rest up here for a bit?" He asked and I shrugged again, knowing that I needed to go back to Chéz Shepard or I was going to get beat again something awful, but I was going to get beat regardless, so it seemed kind of redundant one way or the other.

"Let me know. You don't want to be walking when it gets dark out."

He said it like he already knew I would be going home, like he already knew he would drive me there and sit and glare at the house for ten minutes like he was trying to find a way to make it collapse with his will.

I just nodded, adjusting the ice a bit and receiving another one of those half-smiles from Riggs that told me he was sorry but there was nothing he could do about it. I hated those looks. They never did anything but make me feel worse for being a damn bother. But Riggs never seemed to catch on. He just patted my shoulder and went across the room to talk to one of the boys, still looking back at me like he needed to watch over me. He hadn't been my babysitter for a long time, but some habits were hard to break.

I leaned my head back against the side of the couch and closed my eyes a little. I didn't see how life could get any worse than this.

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**Danny Blake's story: ****.net/s/3362863/1/The_River_King**  
**William Gordon's story: ****.net/s/5375709/1/Coming_Undone**

**You can go there for refrence on the characters in this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Changes  
Chapter 2  
Rating: **T  
**Pairing: **None  
**Summary:** Life was changing fast for William Gordon, but seemed to be at a standstill for Danny Blake.  
**Disclaimer: **Neither Tens nor I own The Outsiders or any of its characters. I own William Gordon and his family, and Tensleep owns Danny Blake and his extended-gang family. That's it.

Oh, and for our dear, impatient reviewer Mike – find the connections, babe.

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**Will's POV**

First day at Will Rogers High School. I had always despised the first day of school. New people, new faces, new teachers… I hated everything new. What was worse was that it was in a new country, as well, making everything strange on top of it.

The first part of my day wasn't very eventful. I skipped a few of my classes, until a teacher caught me smoking in the bathrooms. He took my cigarette and shoved me from the room like I disgusted him. Well, that was one way to get me out. So needless to say, by last period, I was pissed to bloody-almighty hell. Not that last period made an improvement on my mood. It seemed like I was destined to get in trouble. The first offence was that I was late. The old hag of a teacher didn't appreciate that much. Then my mouth got the better of me, shooting out every cuss word I could think up. Her face was reddening by the second until she told me to get out of her sight. I didn't mind that so much. What I minded was that I was apparently sentenced to a week of detention. What a way to kick off the week.

So that was why I was making my way towards where the detention room was. I held my cigarettes in one hand, and stared down at a crumpled piece of paper in the other. It was the map the woman behind the front desk had given me when I had showed up that morning. I needed it – this school was confusing. I mean, it was my first day here, and they expected me to know where everything was. Yeah, right. I had the feeling it would take me a lot longer than a few hours before I could walk around the school freely.

On top of being a confusing place, the people in it didn't make much sense, either. Take the short man who ran up to me, spouting nonsense about my cigarettes, and the fact I wasn't in class. It took me a long moment to figure out that he was a teacher. I told him I was looking for detention, and he sighed a little, grabbing a hold of my arm because he was apparently in charge of detention. Well, I thought that was pretty lucky, depending at how you looked at it. Not that I needed to be dragged to detention. It was a bit annoying to have someone shorter than me pulling me along like that when I was headed in the general direction of the room already.

So naturally, when we got to the classroom, he pushed me in. He was calling me "Mr. Gordon" and chewing me out for not showing up on time. The door was shut firmly behind him a moment later, and I growled softly, making my way to an empty desk. I noticed the only other kid in the room who looked awake, mainly because he was watching me like I was going to start performing tricks. He had his hair greased back; a clump of it swirled down the middle of his forehead. He looked like every other guy in a leather jacket I had seen today, so I ignored him. I took off my jacket, propping my feet on the desk I'd chosen, and leaned back to get comfortable. I needed a smoke, but I knew better than to try that in there. I scratched my fingers on the denim of my jeans, trying to distract myself from the craving. It never worked, but it was habit by now.

"Get a load of him," the guy muttered to himself like I wasn't sitting right there. I rolled my eyes, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

It never fails that I always managed to get stuck with the loonies.

"Got something to say?" I asked after turning my head to watch him.

His lips held a smirk, like he was trying not to laugh. Yeah, fuck my accent.

The guy said, "Nothin' I wanna share with the class," like he was smart and such.

Well, his accent wasn't much better. The Southern American accent always bugged me – lazy and annoying, simple as that.

After a moment of glaring at him, I turned and looked at the teacher who was snoring away at the desk. Irresponsible, if you asked me. I wondered why the short man who had declared he was in charge of the detention wasn't here, but the other man was? I decided it didn't matter. I glanced at my watch and nearly groaned – another hour of sitting in a room with a sleeping teacher. The clock on the wall said the same time, but there was potential for it. Interesting...

I stood up and went to the teacher, bracing my hands on the desk and leaning down to look at him. He wore a watch too. Tenderly, I grabbed his wrist, waiting to see if he'd wake up. Nothing. Slowly I took his watch and began to change the time forward an hour, then placed his wrist back on the desk. I turned around and smirked at the others in the room. I stood under the clock a moment later, doing the same. Once it was forward an hour, I went back to my desk. Again, I looked at the others.

"Want to wake him up?" I asked.

The guy was smirking at me broadly, like he was impressed with me. Well, that was for him to decide. I, on the other hand, didn't see the big deal. Did people not pull these tricks with sleeping teachers here? Well… did teachers sleep here often?

"Me and you are gonna get on fine," he said, extending his hand out to me with a wide grin. "Two-Bit Mathews."

For a moment I looked at the offered hand. Two-Bit? What a weird name. I eventually took it, shaking it firmly like Charlie had taught me.

"William," I said, grinning in return.

He didn't make any move to wake the teacher up, so I stood and grabbed my few things and went to the teacher. I slapped my hand on the table, waking him up.

"You've been asleep forever. It's time to leave, so I am."

I walked on out of the class room without hearing an answer from the teacher. Two-Bit got up quickly and followed me out, looking like he was trying not to chuckle.

"Where are we off to now, Willy?" he asked me as I pulled a cigarette out.

I glared at him for a moment, hating the name 'Willy.' It just sounded wrong.

"Don't call me that. Call me Will, if anything," I corrected.

I started off for the exit. I was ready to get out of his hellhole. Fast. That, and I needed a cigarette. Bad.

"And I figured you could show me around. I'm new here," I called over my shoulder at Two-Bit

I was sure he had figured that out the moment I opened my mouth. Everyone could tell.

"Actually, I should get out of here," Two-Bit offered, and gave a nod before turning in the opposite direction.

I shrugged. Well, I was out one tour guide. That didn't mean I was going to stand around and hope for another to crash into me. Just as I started to make my way again, I caught sight of another kid standing in the doorway of the detention room. He was laughing his ass off at something I didn't catch, if that raspy chuckle could be called a laugh. Or maybe, he was just laughing in general. I knew people like that. Kenneth always did that when he was high. I wondered if this kid was high, too.

"Detention is cancelled!" I called to him as I lit my cigarette. Yes, I was still inside the school. So what? How much more trouble could I really get in during my first day of school?

The kid's chuckles died as he turned towards me, looking wary. He seemed to take a long moment looking between me and the door before making his way closer to me.

"Thanks….You're doing time too?" he asked, looking at the floor instead of at me.

"I was," I corrected. "Lucky for me, the teacher fell asleep so I could change the clocks in the room. Even his watch. Damn idiot's a heavy sleeper."

His eyes had wandered from the floor up to where they were fixated on my cigarettes. He probably had the same nagging craving I had. That or he was really high and liked the paper.

"Want one?" I asked, holding the pack out to him.

The kid eyed it, looking indecisive, then shook his head. He fished out his own crumpled looking pack and pulling one out. "Thanks, but I can't stand that Menthol crap."

He cursed when he found that he only had two left in his pack. I hated it when that happened.

"You're not from around here," he offered, sticking one of the sticks behind his ear.

"England," I told him. "Been here for a few days."

He nodded, probably not having a clue where England even was. "And how are you liking our fair city?"

I glanced at him, wondering if he had looked around lately. The city was anything but fair from what I had seen thus far. But that wasn't something worth mentioning.

"Not bad. Like it a whole lot better than my old town. A stupid, pristine little town in London. Not enough up there for me."

It wasn't true. I did miss things about the place – mainly it was familiar, that it was something I didn't have to second guess myself on. Tulsa was far too new and strange for me to have made up my mind one way or the other. Hopefully, it would turn out to be a good place.

The guy nodded, spacing out a bit and snapping his attention back to me a minute later. Yes, he was very high.

"I'm Danny Blake. Most call me one or the other," he offered.

He actually seemed to look at me then. He had bright green eyes under his messy blond hair. He couldn't have been more than fifteen. His face was also very thin and his cheek bones were very prominent. All in all, he looked like your typical druggie.

"William Gordon," I replied. "Either is fine." I dragged on my cigarette deeply. "I've been called a lot of different things. Will, Bill, Gordy..." I listed. I hated being called Willy, though.

"Got a light, Will?" He asked, watching my cigarette and I nodded, handing over the lighter I had in my pocket.

I watched as he lit his cigarette and handed back the lighter. He took a long drag and considered his cigarette for a moment before offering himself a shrug.

"Nice to know ya, Will," he yawned. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm not lookin' for any more teachers to catch me doing something fun."

He waved his cigarette, as if I didn't know what he was doing that would be frowned upon by the establishment.

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm supposed to be in detention until the end of school." I was walking backwards as I talked, opening the exit when I bumped into it. "And I'm not going to stand in the hallway if I can go outside."

He kind of frowned at me and I flashed a small grin. By that point, my cigarette was more ash than stick, so I dropped it onto the floor and stepped on it before leaving the building.

Danny seemed to think about it for a few seconds before following me outside. He blinked at the sky, squinting into the light.

"What do people typically do when they skip school?" He asked and I offered him a shrug.

"This is your country, mate. You tell me."

He only nodded and I was starting to think that he had a screw or two loose, drugs or not.

"I'm in the same boat as you are, my fine feathered friend," he offered. "Nothing feels right on this side of the river."

"Well since I'm new, and you only know one side of town, why don't you show me what you _do_ know."

Which isn't much, I added in my mind. My opinion of the guy was slipping with everything he said. It seemed like he was burned out at fifteen. He only laughed, though, like I had said something funny. It was that same raspy laugh from before. I imagined everything was funny when you were that high.

"I think I work around here," he mused, turning in one direction, expecting I was going to follow. "And there's an old witch with a broom...and a rolling pin...But the waitress..."

The guy lost me after 'the old witch with a broom'. Rambler, I assumed.

"Just lead and I'll follow," I said when he trailed off.

This guy surely was original, though. I wondered vaguely what he would be like if he weren't high. Something told me there weren't many of those moments, though.

He led the way, looking back over his shoulder from time to time, as if he had forgotten I was there. He finally stopped walking outside a really poor looking house in a very shabby looking neighbourhood. It looked just like one of the towns I was always bumming around in back in London. Better than that stuck-up town I lived in.

The kid kind of blinked at the place and gestured to it. "Good news - I now know where we are. I live here."

"And you didn't know before?" I asked, only slightly surprised.

He only shrugged, looking at me like he was trying to remember who I was. What a weird kid.

"Nice place," I commented, not knowing what else to say.

"We clean it every Friday." He looked at me for a moment, rubbing at his arm, and offering a shrug. "This is what I know."

I nodded, figuring that what he knew wouldn't have been much of a trip anyways.

"I need a Coke," he said suddenly, walking past me in the direction we had just came from.

"A Coke?" I asked, keeping pace with him.

"I'm coming down. I fall asleep when I come down. Coke keeps me awake. I need a Coke."

That...actually made sense. So I settled with following him, having nothing else to do. My hands were shoved into my pockets and I was chewing on the inside of cheek. This day was turning out to be more exciting than I planned.


End file.
